To Fabricate Unknowness
by emrie
Summary: R/J. A new conflict surfaces in Rory and Jess’s relationship, manifested as they struggle to define themselves as adults.
1. Default Chapter

**Summary**: A new conflict surfaces in Rory and Jess's relationship, manifested as they struggle to define themselves as adults.   
**Rating**: PG-13 for language and sexual innuendo. Nothing graphic.  
**Feedback**: _Greatly appreciated._ I won't withhold writing for feedback, but it certainly makes it feel more worthwhile. I'd love to hear anything, a sentence you liked, a piece of the story, your general thoughts. Anything.**  
Author's Notes**: Rory's POV. This is a bit of a departure from my usual style. I hope you guys like it. I was trying for a more realistic feel than some stuff. Let me know what you think. I used as many facts as I could but obviously, some stuff is made up. The main titles and chapter titles are e.e. cummings quotes.  
**Disclaimer**: I do not own these characters. They belong to Amy Sherman-Palladino and the other creators of the Gilmore Girls universe.  
**  
**

Ch. 1: laugh, leaning back in my arms for life's not a paragraph  
  


  
The candle on my bedside table, having burned its wick to the bottom of the white saucer, extinguished in a lazy curl as the room drifted into darkness. Headlights from a passing car swept across the far wall, illuminating a wispy tail of smoke as it hung in the air like a forgotten question mark. I stretched in bed and sought a cool spot among the tangled sheets.  
  
The bed moved slightly as Jess shifted beside me, his fingertips lightly brushing down my arm. You awake? His voice was gruff with sleep, but warm.  
  
My reply was noncommittal, but he took it to mean yes. It tickled when he kissed the side of my neck. I turned over, tucking myself against him, breathing in the scent of his skin. He exhaled softly, a contented noise in the back of his throat.  
  
What time is it? I asked, vaguely trying to pull my thoughts back to a fixed plane.  
  
Don't ask stupid questions, he said affectionately.  
  
My eyes were adjusting slowly in the dim glow of the streetlights outside, and I blinked as I began to make out the angular contours of his face. He was smiling; I could see it in the line of his jaw. I reached up, my fingers brushing the damp hairs at the base of his neck, and pulled him down to kiss me. While his eyes were closed, I stretched out my other hand and fumbled in the dark for my watch.  
  
He pulled back just far enough to ask, What time is it? He knew all my tricks.  
  
I pressed the indi-glo button, saw my fingers briefly bathed in blue light.   
  
What time's your class?  
  
Not until ten.  
  
He rolled away from me, flat on his back. Breathed out. Hard to believe you're almost a graduate.  
  
I know. I joined him staring at the darkness that masked the ceiling. He sensed that there was more I wanted to say and waited patiently, hands resting lightly on his stomach. It's weird, I guess. I mean, I've been talking about being a journalist for so long. What if it's not like I imagined it?  
  
Then you'll join the circus.  
  
  
  
He moved his hands behind his head. I think you'll be fine.  
  
  
  
Hey, would I lie to you? I saw a dim flash of teeth as he grinned.  
  
I'm serious. What if I can't hack it?  
  
You'll be great, okay? You will go striding through foreign countries like a goddess, and people will rush out to greet you in the streets. They'll crown you the reporter deity of the Middle East.  
  
I kicked him under the sheets. Now you're just being silly.  
  
Maybe, but it's true. People like talking to you.  
  
I was silent, trying to picture myself capably handling different currencies, arguing in foreign languages, sleeping in cities across the world from my home. The idea was surreal to me, even though I'd been preparing for just that lifestyle all through college.  
  
I nudged him. Do _you_ like talking to me?  
  
Of course. He drew in a sharp breath and held it. I'll miss that.  
  
I propped myself up on one elbow, fighting the gravitational pull of the mattress in an effort to watch his face.  
  
I'll miss that. Talking to you. The sound of your voice.  
  
I'm not dying, you know.  
  
I know. But once you start traveling, everything will be different.  
  
The threat of tears was so sudden I almost wasn't prepared to fight it. Jesus, I'd miss him when I started working. It was a double edged sword; in starting my dream job, I'd have to be far from the man I loved. I swallowed once to gain time before saying lightly, Then I'm just going to have to sneak you with me when I travel.  
  
He released his breath, the somber mood broken. Where will you keep me?  
  
I laughed softly. In the overhead compartment.  
  
With your pillow?  
  
I rested my head on his chest, smoothing a hand over his stomach. You are my pillow. Most of our conversations in the middle of the night disintegrated in this manner, moving from intellectual discussion into sleepy, nonsensical endearments.  
  
Lying there as his breathing dwindled to a whisper, I drifted from the moment gradually. Listened to the sharpened silence of the room. A plane soared overhead, nearly drowned out by the gentle hum of the fan in the corner, turning back and forth to watch over us. The air was heavy, damp and intoxicating.  
  
Consciousness spun away on the threads of sleep.


	2. “what if a dawn of a doom of a dream bit...

**Summary**: A new conflict surfaces in Rory and Jess's relationship, manifested as they struggle to define themselves as adults.   
**Rating**: PG-13 for language and sexual innuendo. Nothing graphic.  
**Feedback**: _Greatly appreciated._ I won't withhold writing for feedback, but it certainly makes it feel more worthwhile. I'd love to hear anything, a sentence you liked, a piece of the story, your general thoughts. Anything.**  
Author's Notes**: Rory's POV. This is a bit of a departure from my usual style. I hope you guys like it. I was trying for a more realistic feel than some stuff. Let me know what you think. AYA is something I made up. I used as many facts as I could but obviously, some stuff is made up. The main titles and chapter titles are e.e. cummings quotes.  
**Disclaimer**: I do not own these characters. They belong to Amy Sherman-Palladino and the other creators of the Gilmore Girls universe.  
  


**Ch. 2: what if a dawn of a doom of a dream bites this universe in two**  


  
Wishing desperately that I hadn't hit the snooze button that third time, I rifled through the stacks of papers on my desk. Yesterday's newspaper, a novel due at the library last Thursday, an unfinished letter to my grandmother—there it was. I grabbed my notebook and headed out the door, hoping I could catch the T in time to make my Islamic Civilizations class.  
  
The phone rang as I was slipping on my sandals and I paused in the doorway to listen as the answering machine picked up. Hey, it's me. I'm guess you're not there, so—  
  
I lunged for the phone.   
  
You're there.   
  
I'm here.  
  
You're not on your way to class?  
  
I am, but I can be late. What's up? He paused, and I could hear Luke's voice in the background. He was at the diner. Jess, what's up?  
  
I got into AYA. His voice caught just slightly with excitement, a self-satisfied sound that might have gone unnoticed by someone who knew him less.   
  
You got into what? I pinned the phone against my shoulder with my ear and starting searching through the bag sitting on the couch. It looked like I was going to need cab fare.  
  
AYA? American Youth in Afghanistan? It's a volunteer relief group.  
  
Feeling bad for not remembering anything about it, I overcompensated. Oh, right! I didn't know you'd applied.  
  
I didn't want to tell you until I—Hold on a second. He covered the phone and I heard his muffled voice against the morning diner noise. I wondered if my mother was there; I hadn't talked to her in over a week.  
  
I'm back. He paused. So what do you think?  
  
It sounds great! I found a crumpled ten dollar bill I'd been using as a bookmark.  
  
He sounded shy, as he always did when he was proud of himself. So do you think you could see it in your heart to give me a few culture survival lessons before I go? I'll be taking a crash immersion course, but a tutor might be a good thing.  
  
His oh-so-serious tone made me smile. I think it might be a possibility. I stood up, slinging my bag over my shoulder. When do you leave?  
  
June. Right after your graduation.  
  
I felt a twinge of disappointment. Are you going to be gone for the whole summer?  
  
There was a silence. Through the receiver I could distinguish various individual voices around him, most of them familiar. Homesickness swamped me. I wanted to be back at that counter again, sitting shoulder to shoulder with Mom, wearing saddle shoes and plaid.  
  
he said. I'm going for a whole year.  
  
I sat down hard. My voice sounded small and pathetic, even to me.  
  
I thought you knew that.  
  
I did. I closed my eyes. I just forgot for a second, that's all.  
  
He knew I was upset.   
  
I'm really late for class now. I winced, realizing that sounded cold. I'm sorry.  
  
No problem.  
  
A guilty chord chimed within me. He sounded so different then he had when I'd first answered the phone. Crestfallen. I'll call you later, okay? There was a pleading note to my voice that I hated. I felt like a baby.  
  
He was retreating into his sullen teenage facade.  
  
I waited for him to hang up first, and felt stung when he did so immediately.


	3. “a coward waiting clumsily to cease whom...

**Summary**: A new conflict surfaces in Rory and Jess's relationship, manifested as they struggle to define themselves as adults.   
**Rating**: PG-13 for language and sexual innuendo. Nothing graphic.  
**Feedback**: _Greatly appreciated._ I won't withhold writing for feedback, but it certainly makes it feel more worthwhile. I'd love to hear anything, a sentence you liked, a piece of the story, your general thoughts. Anything.**  
Author's Notes**: Rory's POV. This is a bit of a departure from my usual style. I hope you guys like it. I was trying for a more realistic feel than some stuff. Let me know what you think. The T is the Boston subway. I used as many facts as I could but obviously, some stuff is made up. The main titles and chapter titles are e.e. cummings quotes.  
**Disclaimer**: I do not own these characters. They belong to Amy Sherman-Palladino and the other creators of the Gilmore Girls universe.  
  


**Ch. 3: a coward waiting clumsily to cease whom every perfect thing meanwhile doth miss**  


  
As I climbed the steps up from the T station by my apartment that afternoon, it started to rain. Fat drops dotted my light blue tank top, and I pulled my notebook to my chest, protecting it. A few tourists nearby struggled to hide their cameras under their wind breakers.  
  
Frustrated with the slow moving pedestrians, I breathed out harshly and fought my way down the crowded sidewalk. It had taken all my strength to get through an hour and a half lecture without breaking down, and this wasn't the time to become the local crazy lady and start weeping on the street. Blinking back rain, I ran across an intersection and a driver blared his horn at me. I gave him the finger as I bounded up the steps to my apartment.  
  
I slammed through the door, taking off my sandals, tossing the keys on the table. Safely inside, I opened the fridge and searched for the Thai food left over from the night before. As the microwave hummed to itself, I crossed my arms and leaned against the counter, deep in thought.  
  
Jess's news was beginning to sink in, but my thoughts weren't any clearer than when I'd first heard him say the words. _A whole year_. I was self-aware enough to know that I was upset, but I couldn't justify my reaction. Our separation in the past had been my doing; while I attended college, Jess had stayed behind in Stars Hollow working whatever odd jobs came along, allowing me time to spread my wings and test the wind. Who was I to say that he didn't have the same right to pursue his own dreams now, even if it meant more time apart?  
  
It still hurt, though. For the last two years, ever since I'd moved to Boston for grad-school, we'd talked about getting an apartment in Cambridge. A place of our own, where we could leave dirty dishes in the sink and open books all over the living room. A place where we could have sex on the kitchen floor without worrying that we'd wake my Christian Fundamentalist roommate. I had been sure that was what we both wanted, what we both had been working towards all this time, but now my confidence in that idea was shaken. What if this was just the beginning to the long road of breaking up? Did he see this as an opportunity to gain time away from me?  
  
It had been six years since I'd left Stars Hollow, six years of a long distance relationship with a man who gave me shivers when I heard his voice on the phone, a man who broke my heart every time he said goodbye for another week. Six years of putting each other on hold, commuting back and forth, cell phone conversations that cut out in the middle of important news. The time at Yale hadn't been so bad—it wasn't too far from home—but the next two years at Harvard were a real struggle. I was sick of finding time between classes to call him, sick of cutting short visits for a term paper that was due.  
  
The microwave beeped, and I pulled out the plate, burned my hand, dropped the plate on the counter. I was still scraping ruined pad thai into the trash when the door opened, and my roommate Faith came in. She always left work early on Tuesdays for her Bible study meeting. What are you having? she asked, setting her shoulder bag down on the table. A dozen photocopies of Psalm 23 spilled onto the table, and she hurriedly swept them back into the bag, looking faintly embarrassed. I pretended not to notice.  
  
I'd met Faith by way of a phone number tacked to a bulletin board my first week in Boston. She was a reference librarian at the Boston Public Library, friendly and easy-going and nonintrusive in my personal life—except when it came to Jess. Sweet as she was, she couldn't bring herself to hide her vast disapproval of my sardonic boyfriend who often appeared in the middle of the night and _always_ slept in my bed. More than once a copy of the Bible had found its way into my bedroom. After a few tense discussions regarding the Lord and premarital sex, we'd settled into a fairly peaceful coexistence, accepting each other's beliefs without adopting them.  
  
Thai food, I said, indicating the open containers on the counter. Want some?  
  
No thanks. She yawned. I have to leave in a few minutes.  
  
I watched as she left the kitchen, feeling unbearably alone. I couldn't tell her about Jess leaving; even if she acted sympathetic, I knew deep down she'd be delighted. She'd be setting me up on dates with guys from her church the second his plane took off. I pulled the portable phone across the counter and stared at it, willing it to ring. If only I hadn't left it so I'd be the one to call. Finally, aware that I was being immature and melodramatic, I picked up the phone and dialed.  
  
  
  
Hey. It's me.  
  
I was wondering when you'd call. His words were soft and warm on the telephone, sweeping a chill down my arms. I loved his voice, light and sexy and just a little bit croaky.  
  
Long morning. I rested my elbows on the counter.  
  
A pause. So what are you thinking now?  
  
I'm thinking that... I drew a design with a drop of water on the counter. I don't want you to go. But I also know that I can't ask you to stay.  
  
He was silent, letting me express myself, not jumping to anger or defense.  
  
I just— I stopped, lost my nerve, recovered it, and tried again. I have to know. Is this because of me?  
  
His confusion crackled with momentary static.   
  
Are you doing this to escape me? Us? Do you want time apart? I mean— I searched for the right way to say it, I'm not saying that's the only reason you're doing this, but is it part of the reason? Because if you need space—  
  
He cut in, laughing. You're crazy, you know that?  
  
An unfortunate genetic tendency passed down from my mother, I said, blushing and relieved I didn't have to look him in the eye. Now that I'd said it, it really did sound ridiculous. We were fine; our relationship was fine. He'd given no sign that anything was out of place.  
  
Seriously, Rory. What would posses you to think that?  
  
I—don't know. I had to giggle then, a little shakily. It just seemed so sudden, and a whole year! I reached over and filled a glass with water from the tap.   
  
We've done the long distance thing before.  
  
But not for this long! I took a sip of water. I'm being stupid. I should be happy for you, and instead I'm being...I'm sorry.  
  
Don't worry about it.   
  
Luke's voice carried across the phone lines. Jess, quit yapping and get your ass over here!  
  
It's the lunch rush, Jess said apologetically. Anyway, I'll see you this weekend.  
  
Try not to scare Faith out of her wits this time, would you?  
  
Hey, it's not my fault she was getting a midnight snack at the same time I was breaking in. You should install a better lock on that door, by the way.  
  
I laughed. I'm hanging up now.  
  
He was delighted with himself. What? I'd lost my key!  
  
Bye, Jess. I set the phone down with a clunk, and stared mournfully at my Thai food. Before I could take a bite, the phone rang.  
  
Rory, could you get that? Faith called from the bathroom.  
  
I picked up the portable.   
  
  
  
  
  
It's Lane.  
  
I hoped she wasn't calling to catch up. I didn't feel like talking about my personal life at that exact moment. Hey, how are you?  
  
She giggled ecstatically. I'm pregnant!  
  
What? Oh my god! I dropped my fork. You're kidding! Does Tom know?  
  
Of course! I called him first, as soon as I knew. You were third, after Tom's mom and before mine.  
  
I laughed. Lane adored her mother-in-law.  
  
Actually, I _should_ call my mom now that I've told you. I could sense her reluctance. Mrs. Kim would be as scary a grandmother as she was a mother. She'd make my own grandmother look positively fuzzy. Listen, I really want to talk to you more, but I'll have to call you later. She squealed girlishly, and I was treated to a sudden flashback to middle school and her first crush. Oh my god, I'm so excited! She hung up.  
  
I sat there, letting condensation form on my glass of water, feeling torn between jealousy and happiness. Lane was my best friend; we went back to a time before I could read, before she knew who the Beatles were. Her triumphs were my triumphs, or at least I wanted them to be. But it was hard not to envy her modern fairy tail.  
  
After years of railing against her mother and secretly dating every edgy non-Korean musician she could find, Lane had gone on one blind date from her church and fallen head over heels in love with Thomas Yang. No boy had more perfectly matched Mrs. Kim's ideal of the perfect husband since Henry Cho in the eleventh grade. Lane, despite her mother's approval, was deliriously happy. And now she was having a baby.   
  
Suddenly, for all my seventh month advantage, I felt much younger. Here Lane was, starting a family with her husband while I still flitted to college classes like a kid. I loved my life, loved my boyfriend, but I wanted what she had. I didn't like the feeling of being unsettled, of not knowing where I was going to be a year from now. I wanted to settle, to nest.  
  
I wanted to decorate a nursery.  
  
Faith breezed out the door, and I stared glumly at my now cold food. Two days ago, I hadn't been positive about everything, but I'd had a good idea about where I'd be a few months: starting my new job, jetting off occasionally to exotic countries, and coming home in the evening to a cozy apartment I shared with the man I loved. That was my plan, and I was the kind of woman who liked having a plan. A detailed one.  
  
Maybe Lane would let me help decorate her nursery.


	4. "teach disappearing also me the keen ill...

**Summary**: A new conflict surfaces in Rory and Jess's relationship, manifested as they struggle to define themselves as adults.   
**Rating**: PG-13 for language and sexual innuendo. Nothing graphic.  
**Feedback**: _Greatly appreciated._ I won't withhold writing for feedback, but it certainly makes it feel more worthwhile. I'd love to hear anything, a sentence you liked, a piece of the story, your general thoughts. Anything.**  
Author's Notes**: Rory's POV. This is a bit of a departure from my usual style. I hope you guys like it. I was trying for a more realistic feel than some stuff. Let me know what you think. I hope the Persian is accurate, because I don't speak it, only found it on the internet. I used as many facts as I could but obviously, some stuff is made up. The main titles and chapter titles are e.e. cummings quotes.  
**Disclaimer**: I do not own these characters. They belong to Amy Sherman-Palladino and the other creators of the Gilmore Girls universe.  
  


**Ch. 4: teach disappearing also me the keen illimitable secret of begin**  


  
I settled myself on the couch with my cup of coffee. What do you want to know?  
  
Jess looked up from his spot on the floor, leaning his weight against the coffee table. Concisely? Everything. He smiled and shifted his weight. But I'll settle for useful phrases.  
  
Aren't they going to be teaching you stuff like that before you go?  
  
He grinned mischievously. But I learn better one-on-one.  
  
Yeah, I'll bet you do. I crossed my legs with mock ladylike precision and sipped my coffee. He gazed up at me expectantly, his eyes bright. So Persian being the most commonly spoken language in Afghanistan, it's probably the one you should learn.  
  
He nodded, and wrote this down in the margin of the notebook open in front of him.  
  
Lucky for you, I smiled, I happen to speak Persian.  
  
He opened his eyes incredulously. Wow. I _am_ lucky. His mouth quirked at the edges, betraying a smile.  
  
Wipe that smirk off your face, young man, I ordered. He grinned. What phrases would you like to know?  
  
He looked down at his list. How about starting with hello' and   
  
_Salaam_ is hello. Goodbye is _khodahafez_.  
  
He repeated the words, testing the warm syllables on his tongue. Every language I'd ever learned had a different taste, and Persian to me tasted like warm incense, smooth sand and fierce winds blended with something ancient. Persian tasted like the sunlight that beats against stone walls in late afternoon.  
  
How about please and thank you? he asked.  
  
I watched him write it down, his mouth forming the word silently as he made notes to himself about pronunciation. And _tashakor_.  
  
We continued quietly for over an hour. I refilled my coffee twice, and sat still while he filled pages of his notebook, the paper turning brittle from the letters etched into it. It amazed me, abstractly, to realize how good my Persian had become in the past few years. I still wasn't able to say everything I wanted, but my accent was decent and for conversational purposes I was very good. And it felt good to use my knowledge for a useful cause.  
  
Can you repeat that?  
  
_Ba man biya_, I said slowly. With a groan, he finished what he was writing, then stood and stretched. I put down my coffee and stood beside him. Yawning comfortably, he leaned in for a kiss, and I obliged. I allowed myself to enjoy the warmth of his body for a second before pushing him away.  
  
You know, as your teacher, it's my duty to inform you that your accent is awful. I laughed as he kissed me again.  
  
Where's Faith? His breath tickled my ear.  
  
  
  
He started kissing my neck, his hands finding the hem of my shirt.  
  
Sometimes she gets out early though. I shrieked as he suddenly scooped me up, one arm around my back and the other under my legs. Jess, careful! I cried, as he started for the bedroom. He let my legs drop, and I was glad. We were nearly the same height, and I wasn't sure if he could actually carry me. When he tried to pull me towards my room, I hung onto my willpower and resisted. We actually have to keep working. You leave in three weeks! The statement had a sobering effect on both of us.  
  
He picked up his notebook and sat down across from me again. Our gaze locked for a second, and in that time I saw a million emotions reflected in his eyes. He chewed on the cap of his pen for a minute, reflectively. How would one say I love you'?  
  
I knew what he was trying to express. It was an apology for leaving, a reassurance about his intentions, a communication of what feelings he kept hidden in his heart. I looked down, studied my hands, then raised my eyes to his face. His expression was intense, patient and scared at once. I released the breath I was holding and said softly, conveying with the words my own feelings, _Duset daram_.


	5. "oh but you'll be very proud and my litt...

**Summary**: A new conflict surfaces in Rory and Jess's relationship, manifested as they struggle to define themselves as adults.   
**Rating**: PG-13 for language and sexual innuendo. Nothing graphic.  
**Feedback**: _Greatly appreciated._ I won't withhold writing for feedback, but it certainly makes it feel more worthwhile. I'd love to hear anything, a sentence you liked, a piece of the story, your general thoughts. Anything.**  
Author's Notes**: Rory's POV. This is a bit of a departure from my usual style. I hope you guys like it. I was trying for a more realistic feel than some stuff. Let me know what you think. The stuff about college: the majors are correct, I'm not so sure about the timing of graduation, etc. Bombay Club is a real restaurant. I used as many facts as I could but obviously, some stuff is made up. The main titles and chapter titles are e.e. cummings quotes.  
**Disclaimer**: I do not own these characters. They belong to Amy Sherman-Palladino and the other creators of the Gilmore Girls universe.  
  


**Ch. 5: oh but you'll be very proud and my little sister and i will take hands**  


  
Dad raised his hand and waved to me. I grinned and hurried down the University steps as quickly as I could, careful not to trip in my high heels. When I reached the sidewalk, he swept me into a hug. I'm so proud of you, he said, squeezing me once before releasing me. Where's your mom?  
  
She went with Grandma and Grandpa to get a table. I told her I'd meet you guys and walk. I smiled at my six year old half-sister Camille. Hi, Cami!  
  
Cami took Dad's hand and stepped behind him. Her hello was barely audible.  
  
She's feeling a little shy, Dad informed me. Isn't that right, Cam? He pulled her back out to his side as we started walking. Where are we eating again?  
  
Bombay Club. I grinned as he grimaced. Don't tell me you have the same thing as Mom about the smell.  
  
We're going to have to burn our clothes, that's all. Dad laughed. What, Cam? Cami was tugging on his hand, and he bent down to listen. Yes, I'm sure you'll find something you like to eat there.   
  
It's a great restaurant, I told her, smiling. She nodded seriously and raised her other hand to brush hair out of her face. The last time I'd seen her she'd informed me that she was growing out her bangs.  
  
Dad asked quietly as we walked. I didn't see Jess earlier, is he coming?   
  
A summer breeze blew my skirt sideways. He's meeting us at the restaurant. His immersion course ended today, so he had to take a later train up.  
  
Immersion course? Dad raised an eyebrow at me.  
  
Oh, didn't I tell you? I pushed a loose strand of hair out of my eyes, trying to keep my tone light. Jess is working for AYA next year, in Afghanistan? He had to take a crash course in language, culture, stuff like that. I wasn't allowed to talk to him for two weeks while he learned Persian.  
  
Dad chuckled. But you speak Persian.  
  
I know, but apparently a lot of people say that. They didn't believe me.  
  
Cami peered around Dad. Jess is coming? she asked softly, looking hopeful. I nodded, grinning, and she matched my smile with a more tentative one of her own. She adored Jess, and he was great with her, as much her older brother as I was her older sister.  
  
My senior year of high school, when Dad had gone back to Sherry and the expected baby, he and I had gone through a tough time. He was stressed about repairing things with Sherry and torn between his two children; I resented what I considered his final betrayal, leaving right after promising to stay. As a peace offering, maybe to let me know he still considered me an equal part of his life, he and Sherry had extended the offer to let me name their unborn daughter.  
  
What no one knew, what I'd never told, was that it had been Jess who actually suggested the name Camille. Daunted as well as delighted with my new responsibility, I'd checked out dozens of name books from the library, spent hours poring over them, making lists. Jess had come over one afternoon, taken one look at the alphabetized charts I was agonizing over, and suggested the name Camille from Jack Kerouac's On the Road.  
  
In my most honest moments I could admit to myself the real attraction behind the name. It was not the name itself, but the fact that Jess had chosen it. It had a nice sound, good nickname possibilities, and a great literary reference, but what really gave me shivers was the idea of naming a baby with Jess. It resounded somewhere deep within me, touched upon the hidden fantasy that someday I'd have children with him.  
  
There it is. I pointed across the street. As we stepped off the sidewalk, Cami dropped Dad's hand and took my hand instead, gripping my fingers tightly. We entered the restaurant and spotted Mom, Grandma, and Grandpa sitting at a table set for seven. I took the seat across from Mom and Cami immediately sat next to me. Dad sat between her and Mom.  
  
Can I get you some appetizers? A waiter had appeared.  
  
Mom looked to me. I nodded. Go ahead. Order. If he hasn't shown before we're done, I'll wait for my entrée till he arrives.  
  
As I listened to everyone order, I settled the pale pink linen napkin in my lap and leaned towards Cami. Do you like chicken soup? I asked her. She considered the question for a moment, then nodded. We'll share the Mulligatawny Soup, I told the waiter, then looked at Cami. You can have all the chicken. She smiled. Hey you lost a tooth! When did that happen?  
  
She reached carefully for the glass of ice water and lifted it with both hands to drink.  
  
Show Rory what you got, Dad said.  
  
Cami smiled again and reached into the pocket of her sun-dress. She offered me a look at a five dollar bill before shyly hiding it again.  
  
Wow, five dollars! I only got a penny for my first tooth! I winked at Mom; our budget had been a little tight back then. She smiled back and toasted me subtly with her water glass.  
  
Some sixth sense prickled my senses, and I looked towards the front of the restaurant in time to see Jess hastily tying his tie by the door. He saw me watching him and winked.  
  
Hey, look who's here! Mom said cheerfully, as he half jogged across the room.  
  
The whole table stood to welcome him. Grandpa and Dad shook his hand, and Cami turned around and kneeled on her chair, watching him silently. As everyone resettled in their seats, Jess kissed my cheek and whispered I'm sorry I'm late.  
  
You're not, I whispered back. We shared a brief smile, and he started to sit in the empty chair beside me.  
  
I want Jess to sit here, Cami announced.  
  
We can switch, I offered. Jess took my seat and I took the empty chair beside him. The appetizers arrived momentarily, and I sat comfortably with my hand on his back, playing with the hairs at the nape of his neck.  
  
Guess what, Cami said to Jess. She'd been staring at him wide-eyed for the past five minutes.  
  
Jess turned to face her, grinning.   
  
We have the same middle name.  
  
What? You and me? He faked a look of surprise. Your middle name is Alexander too?!  
  
Cami giggled. Mine's Leigh.  
  
You're kidding! That's Rory's middle name too!  
  
She chortled, That's what I'm saying! Jess could always make her laugh.  
  
Jess shot a proud smile back at me. It was true; Dad had insisted that Camille have the same middle name as me. I would have been more pleased at the connection had it not been a sore point for Sherry. She understood, but on a certain level she resented Dad's continued involvement in my life, because it meant continued involvement with Mom. I was pretty sure her business trip this weekend was actually made up to avoid dinner with us.  
  
So, Jess, Grandpa said, once the entrées were served. I hear you're going to Afghanistan.  
  
Yeah, that's right. Jess smiled and resettled his napkin in his lap. I was the only one who could see he was nervous.  
  
And what are you going to be doing there? Grandpa was in a good mood about my graduation, so his tone was only mildly interrogatory.  
  
Well, at this point I think I'm going to be helping run a school.  
  
A school, Grandma repeated.  
  
Yeah, the literacy rate is still only at about 41%. We're going to try and change that.  
  
And what will you be teaching? Grandpa asked.  
  
English, I think. Jess looked at me and shrugged. Probably everything, realistically. There's twenty of us teachers and hundreds of kids without schooling.  
  
Grandma looked doubtful. With that kind of student to faculty ratio, don't you think discipline will be a problem?  
  
Nope. You see, that's the difference with American schools. Jess reached over and stole a shrimp off my plate. The kids take their education for granted and resent it. When you've had no education, as some of these children have, you don't do anything to jeopardize your learning.  
  
Mom was watching Jess pensively, and I knew what was going through her head. When I stepped back and thought about it, sometimes I felt the same way. It was hard to believe that this eloquent, well-adjusted young man was the same sullen teenager who had swaggered into our lives eight years ago. What I knew that she didn't was that he was the same person all along; his interior and exterior attitudes had just reversed themselves. He had always been this verbal and considerate with me, and I had seen, when provoked, that he could still be just as nasty and sarcastic. But it was gratifying to see the difference in how he faced the world.  
  
I'm so sorry Sherry couldn't come, Dad was saying. She really wanted to be here, but that meeting—she sends her congratulations, Rory. I nodded and gave Dad the accepting smile he wanted. It wouldn't do anyone any good to point out how Sherry was avoiding me and Mom.  
  
Where is _your_ significant other this evening, Lorelai? Grandma asked.  
  
He had to work. Mom looked embarrassed.  
  
He runs a diner, not a country, Grandma said. Couldn't he have closed for one day?  
  
It wasn't necessary, Mom said, shooting me a get-me-out-of-this look. It brought back the memory of a hundred Friday night dinners, all containing arguments like this one.  
  
It's okay, Grandma, I assured her, ever the peacemaker. Luke offered, but it sounded like it would be inconvenient, so I told him it was okay if he didn't come.  
  
Grandma sniffed, and dinner continued peacefully after that. Before I knew it, we were standing to leave, thanking our waiter and making our way to the front of the building. Cami was dozing on Dad's shoulder, so he excused himself from the group as we stood on the sidewalk, promising he'd call me later.  
  
Jess, you're leaving tomorrow? Grandpa asked. When Jess nodded, Grandpa took his hand and shook it. Good luck. He hugged me then. Your grandmother and I are very proud of you, Rory.  
  
Mom was studying her parents. Dad, why don't you and Mom take a cab back to the hotel? I'll catch up. They nodded, said their goodbyes, and within a minute they were gone.  
  
You know, I think I left something behind, Jess said awkwardly. I'll be right back. He ducked inside, giving me a minute alone with my mother.  
  
Mom faced me. What time is his flight tomorrow?  
  
Ten o'clock from Logan. I tried to smile, but it felt false. You're still picking me up afterwards? The plan was for us to spend the weekend at Grandma and Grandpa's house on Martha's Vineyard. It would give me an escape from the new loneliness I'd be facing.  
  
Not until two o'clock. Mom brushed hair back from my face. She sounded teary. Hey, babe, I know it's been said several times before, but at the risk of sounding like a broken record I have to repeat it: I am _so_ proud of you.  
  
Thank you. I hugged her fiercely. The words seemed far too small for everything I wanted to express: thank you for raising me, thank you for believing in me, thank you for understanding that I'd need time to cry after Jess left. Thank you for being my best friend for most of my life.  
  
Until now.


	6. "close as i'm to you yes closer made of ...

**Summary**: A new conflict surfaces in Rory and Jess's relationship, manifested as they struggle to define themselves as adults.   
**Rating**: PG-13 for language and sexual innuendo. Nothing graphic.  
**Feedback**: _Greatly appreciated._ I won't withhold writing for feedback, but it certainly makes it feel more worthwhile. I'd love to hear anything, a sentence you liked, a piece of the story, your general thoughts. Anything.**  
Author's Notes**: Rory's POV. This is a bit of a departure from my usual style. I hope you guys like it. I was trying for a more realistic feel than some stuff. Let me know what you think. The main titles and chapter titles are e.e. cummings quotes.  
**Disclaimer**: I do not own these characters. They belong to Amy Sherman-Palladino and the other creators of the Gilmore Girls universe.  
  


**Ch. 6: close as i'm to you yes closer made of nothing except loneliness**  


  
So how does it feel to be a graduate? Jess asked, his hand resting lightly at the small of my back as we walked up the stairs to my apartment.  
  
I don't know. I considered the question. It feels like I'm waiting for someone to come up and tell me what to do with my life. Give me advice. I looked over at him, saw the smile he was fighting, and we said at the same instant, The laughter was a release.  
  
Seriously, though, I keep waiting for directions. I fitted my key into the lock and pushed the door open. This job was my dream, but now I feel like the road in front of me just stopped.  
  
You know what I think? Jess asked, pausing behind me as I dropped my purse on the table. The question lingered there as he lightly brushed the palms of his hands up my arms. I shivered, turned to face him.  
  
It was barely a whisper. He was so close.  
  
I never got to hear what he thought because he kissed me instead. I struggled to kick off my shoes as he walked me backwards towards the couch. We tumbled onto the cushions still locked in an embrace, pausing only while he undid his tie and tossed it on the floor. Blindly I fumbled with his buttons, pushed his shirt off his arms, felt the muscles in his back tense as he carefully propped himself up above me. I moved in closer to trail a line of kisses across his collarbone.   
  
I was just undoing his belt, my leg hooked around his, him struggling with the zipper on my dress, when the lights flicked on. We broke apart to see Faith watching us, her mouth set in a grim line. I avoided her eyes, re-zipping my dress and pushing myself into a more upright position. Jess sat back on his heels in front of me, kneeling on the couch, a small grin playing at the corners of his mouth. I shook my head, tried to stop him from saying whatever was about to come flying out of his mouth, but it was too late.  
  
Gee, Faith, he said brightly, you're late.  
  
Excuse me? Faith was normally a warm person, but she froze solid around Jess.  
  
His sarcasm was intended to offend. See, _normally_ your sex-radar goes off right about the time we hit second base, but tonight you didn't even make it in here until I had the condom out of my pocket. He brandished said condom and Faith averted her eyes. So either _you're_ slipping, or we're just getting it on faster because I'm so damn desperate to get laid.  
  
I hissed.  
  
Faith shot me a look that expressed all of her loathing of the type of man I'd chosen to share my bed with, then pointedly exited the room. Nearly tripping in my embarrassment and haste, I gathered up my stuff and hurried Jess into my bedroom.  
  
Did you see the look on her face? he demanded, barely stifling delight.  
  
Yes, I did! I picked up one of my pillows and swung it at him, pretty hard. Jess, I have to live with her! What got into you? What could you possibly gain by saying any of that?!  
  
He had the grace to look slightly chagrined. She's just so self-righteous, you know? What matters is that I love you, but she acts like we're committing some huge crime because we're not married! Jesus, it just pisses me off! He ran a hand up the back of his head in frustration.  
  
She means well. I looked down.  
  
he stepped closer, looping one arm casually about my waist and using the other hand to lift my chin. You have to admit it was a little comical.  
  
I tried to avoid his eyes, tried not to smile, and nearly choked on a chuckle that escaped me. Sex-radar, Jess? He laughed. What would ever posses you to think of that?!  
  
I don't know! He sat down on the edge of my bed, laughing harder. I just thought of it when she entered the room! Her timing is really impeccable, you know.  
  
Oh, god. I sat down beside him. After a pause. How would a radar like that work, do you think?  
  
he paused, pretending to give it serious consideration, I think for every article of clothing that comes off, the signal gets louder. Once the guy loses his pants, it goes into red alert. The idea of Faith having a little flashing light by her bed that warned of our impending intercourse sent me into another fit of giggles. Your roommate seems to have a particularly sensitive sex-radar, he continued, perfectly deadpan. It seems that hers goes into red-alert the second I walk in the door.  
  
So how do we stop her? I asked playfully. I take it we can't just pick up our own radar to warn us that she's coming?  
  
Jess faked a shifty paranoid look. No, that's just what she'd be expecting us to do! When I laughed, he wrapped an arm around my back and pulled me against him. Here's what we _will_ do. Next time, I'll just sneak into her room and take a baseball bat to her radar. Simple as that.  
  
My grin faded from my face as I replayed his last statement. _Next time._ It all came back that he was leaving tomorrow, leaving for longer than we'd ever been separated since we'd met. Next time might not be for over a year.  
  
What is it? He'd noticed that I'd stopped laughing. My eyes blurred with tears and my world narrowed to the single point that was his concerned expression. Hey, don't cry.  
  
Don't go. I was suddenly weeping. My exhaustion from the day had finally caught up with me. Don't leave me.  
  
I'm not going forever. He caught my hands. I will be back, I promise.  
  
But how do you know?! I was beyond rationality.  
  
He sighed. I just know. He sounded impossibly serious, and that only made me cry harder. If there was no doubt about anything, he'd be able to joke about it. He kissed each of my cheekbones, catching tears that were rolling down my face, then found my mouth. The sheets were cool beneath me as he gently lowered me back onto the bed.  
  
Making love that evening in the damp humidity of my bedroom was the moment where I finally crossed over from childhood, leaving the last strains of naiveté behind. That night there were no jokes, no sarcastic remarks, no interruptions. No secrecy, no sneaking around, no muffled giggles. Gone were the teenagers in love that we had once been; in their place lay two adults who were spending their last precious hours together, drinking in what they could of the other's presence.  
  
The next morning when I rolled over and kissed the dent between his shoulder blades, I could have defined the word bittersweet with no hesitation; my sense of untainted contentment while lying beside him was tempered with a sense of impending heartbreak that I couldn't shake, even in the fresh light of day.  
  
  
Well, that's the end of the chapters I'd already written (and put up slowly to keep you guys in suspense.) There will definitely be more, but I have to write it first. I hope to get at least one more chapter up before I leave in a week, but I make no guarantees. **Thank you** to everyone who wrote me such amazing feedback; you're awesome!


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